


no body, no crime

by QuickCharade



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Songfic, no body no crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickCharade/pseuds/QuickCharade
Summary: A lil one shot based on Taylor Swift's new song "no body, no crime" ft. HAIM xx.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	no body, no crime

_**they think she did it, but they just can’t prove it** _

You turn around from the counter at the diner, flashing your million-dollar smile at the tall, dark, and very handsome man standing before you. “How can I help you, honey?”

The corners of the man’s lips barely twitch. His brown eyes tell you a completely different story, though. Intrigue. “I’m Agent Hotchner with the FBI.”

“Big guns,” you remark, leaning back into the counter, your elbows on each side, a provocative stance if you’ve ever done one. “What are you doin’ snooping around this sleepy town for, then?”

“We’re investigating the disappearance of Este Haim.”

You snort. “Este’s fine.”

Agent Hotchner raises his eyebrows. “She is?”

“She’s at my house right now, sir. I can take you to her if you like.”

He narrows his eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

“Alright,” you grin, spinning back around to face the kitchen. You stick two fingers in your mouth and whistle loudly, getting the attention of the cook. “Kevin! I’m going out! Be back later, ‘kay?”

“Aight,” Kevin yells back.

You sigh and turn back to the agent. “That’s my little cousin. He’s only here because his momma said she better not catch him smoking at the park again or she’ll ship him off to military school. Anywho, you ready? Este was at my place last I checked, and I’ve got the car, so.” While you’re talking, you’re grabbing your tan coat off the hook and swinging it over your shoulders. 

Agent Hotchner presses his palm flat against the glass of the door. No wedding ring, you note. Good to know. 

You wrap your coat around your body, the chilled winter air biting into your skin. “Do you wanna just follow me?”

“I can drive. I’ll bring you back to your car.”

“Afraid I’ll jump into a high-speed chase?” You tease. He doesn’t look amused. “I kid. My POS won’t get up to sixty without shaking to pieces.”

“POS?”

“Piece of shit.”

“Ah.”

“This yours?” You ask, pointing toward the blacked-out sedan. “Looks very FBI.”

“Yes, it’s mine.”

“Nice.” You didn’t pin him to be a total gentleman, yet here he is, opening the passenger door for you. You haven’t figured out yet if he’s doing so because he’s still afraid you’ll break into a run -- but really? In these shoes? -- or something along those lines. But he looks like the type of man who hates to have his buttons pushed.

So, naturally, you push his buttons.

“You know,” you start, pausing to spin around and face him, refusing to hop in the passenger seat. “I don’t think you ever showed me a real badge.”

He knows exactly what you’re doing, or he must, because without a single word, he produces his official FBI badge from his jacket and holds it out to you. Like a dumb chick, you grab the badge and bring it closer to your face, inspecting it, or pretending to. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t know fake from real if it smacked you in the face. 

“Behavioral Analysis Unit?” You hum, thumbing over his name. “Aaron Hotchner. Nice to meet you, Aaron. What does Behavioral Analysis mean?”

“What do you think it means?” He quips, taking the badge from you and stuffing it back in his pocket. “Get in the car.”

“Yes, sir,” you snicker, turning, and hopping up. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive, you know. There’s time for you to explain it to me.”

He answers you by shutting the door.

You bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from smiling too hard. But he’s irresistible, honestly. Mysterious and attractive, here for as long as it takes them to figure this thing out, which you don’t expect to take long.

After all, _**no body, no crime.**_

+++

Agent Hotchner doesn’t speak to you on the drive to your house, other than the occasional question about where to turn.

Once you arrive, you notice Este’s sister, Danielle’s car is here. You turn your head as you unbuckle, biting back another grin. This is really comical to you, but you know you need to keep a poker face on as much as possible.

You walk the agent up to your front door, and you walk right in, not surprised to find the door unlocked.

Danielle, Alana, and Este are sitting in the living room, each sipping a cup of tea or coffee, appearing like a normal group of sisters hanging out together on a Wednesday morning.

But the four of you share a look that the agent doesn’t catch.

“Guys, this is Agent Aaron Hotchner. Aaron, this is Danielle, Alana, and Este,” you point to each sister as you say their names, and they wave, “who you were so worried about,” you tease him with another flirtatious smile.

And once again, he doesn’t twitch. “It’s nice to meet you. Este, would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?”

“Of course,” Este smiles sweetly, taking her tea with her as she follows Agent Hotchner onto the front porch.

You take her spot on the couch in between Alana and Danielle, sharing silent laughter with them.

“So,” Danielle smirks around her mug. “Aaron Hotchner, you say?”

“He’s definitely _hot_ ,” Alana adds.

“He’s mine,” you say, giving them both stern looks.

“Territorial already,” Alana laughs. “This’ll be fun.”

“Do you think he suspects you?” Danielle basically mouths, not wanting to take any chances of the agent overhearing.

You shake your head. “He showed me his badge and everything.”

“Already?” Alana raises her eyebrows suggestively.

You hear your unintentional -- or maybe it was entirely intentional -- innuendo and laugh loudly. “Yep, already. He’s whipped. Or will be soon.”

“I think he’s a lot more work than that,” Danielle says.

“He likes to think he is, I bet,” you murmur, cutting yourself off when the front door opens again.

Este and Agent Hotchner walk back in. With her back facing the agent, Este shoots the three of you a wink. 

“Y/N,” Agent Hotchner says.

And before he can add anything, you say, “Yes, sir?” Earning giggles from the sisters all around you.

But the steel face of Aaron Hotchner doesn’t move once. “Come step outside with me.”

“Gladly,” you huff. “The two of you are exhausting,” you shove Alana and Danielle’s shoulders as you stand.

You follow Agent Hotchner onto your front porch, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and small lighter from the side table next to your door. You don’t smoke often. You’ve limited yourself to one pack a month now, which is a feat considering you used to go through a pack in a week.

The front door shuts and Agent Hotchner starts in with the questions. “You don’t seem at all fazed.”

“Should I be?” You retort, walking over to the wooden swing at the end of the porch. You plop down and let it sway for a moment before you speak again. “You’re the first FBI agent I’ve met, but you don’t seem all that scary. Are you supposed to be scary?”

He ignores your questions and watches as you light a cigarette, but don’t offer one to him. “Are you nervous?”

“Nah,” you blow out a puff of smoke. “I limit myself to a pack a month. Haven’t had one in a week, so I thought I’d treat myself while I answer your questions.”

“Why haven’t you had one?”

“I thought smoking was bad for you,” you smirk. “And now you’re asking me why I haven’t? Something tells me you could answer that question for yourself.”

He shrugs, and leans up against one of the poles. “You were preoccupied.”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Kevin was caught doing heroin again at the park. Reeked of alcohol and weed, too. He was all kinds of fucked up by the time he got home. And he didn’t even make it inside. Just crashed on the front porch of my Aunt Inez’s house. Uncle Ed found him when he was leaving for work a couple hours later.”

Fortunately enough for you, none of that is a single thread of a lie.

Agent Hotchner nods slowly. “What can you tell me about Randall Macneil?”

“Randy?” You question. “You mean the POS that Este married?”

The agent nods again.

“Well, he was exactly that. A piece of shit. Este treated him better than any woman I’ve ever seen with a husband.”

“And now he’s missing.”

“Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“You do realize how that sounds?”

“How what sounds?” You ask innocently, blowing out another puff of smoke in the agent’s direction. It covers your view of him in a foggy haze, yet somehow you get a better look at him that way. “Look, why don’t you go ask James? He knows all about the kind of man Este’s husband was.”

“And what kind of man was he?”

You pull the cigarette back from your lips, giving the handsome man a dead stare. “A liar and a cheat. The worst kind of man there ever was.”

+++

Back at the police precinct, Aaron Hotchner watches you through the small window of the interrogation room. Beside him stands Dave Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Emily Prentiss.

After your little conversation on the porch, Hotch brought you back to the police precinct for questioning. You didn’t seem at all surprised when he asked.

He didn’t tell you this, but he also had the Haim sisters brought in for separate questioning. He knows there is something going on here with the murder of Randy, and that you’re involved at some capacity.

He just doesn’t know if you did it, or if you’re involved in the small-town gossip way.

“I’ll talk to her,” Morgan says. “That good?”

Hotch nods. “Go ahead. Prentiss, you can grab JJ and talk to the sisters, separately. I don’t want any of their stories to be influenced by one another anymore than they already are.”

After Prentiss leaves, Rossi eyes Hotch carefully. “What do you think is going on here?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully. “But she’s part of it,” he nods toward you.

+++

Inside the interrogation room, another agent introduces himself as Derek Morgan. All you hear, though, is that he’s exactly Alana’s type. She’d have a field day if he spoke to her.

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” you grin. “You single? Asking for a friend.”

He chuckles, pulling out the chair in front of you. “Very funny.”

“Hm. Single, then.”

Agent Morgan ignores the fact that you’re right and starts asking his own questions. “Tell me about your friendship with Este. You guys are pretty close, right?”

You nod. “Grew up together. We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine.”

“Where?”

“Olive Garden,” you answer. “You ever been?”

“Nope,” Derek says. “I’m assuming Este talked to you about her marriage with Randy.”

“All the time,” you sigh. “Things started getting even more rocky about two weeks ago.”

“How so?”

“She was fed up. _Finally_.”

_“Este! Woah-- You look beat. What’s going on? Is it Randy? I swear, I’ll beat that son of a bitch as soon as you say the word.”_

_“He’s seeing someone else,” Este blurted._

_You blinked. “What?”_

_“He came home smelling like black cherry merlot. Made me damn near throw up on his shoes when he tried to kiss me.”_

_“You hate black cherry merlot.” And by hate, you mean despise. Randy knows that, the son of a bitch._

_“Then I looked at our bank account, and the fucker spent $500 at some jewelry store downtown. I haven’t gotten no jewelry.”_

_“No,” you snort. “Because when does he ever do something nice for you?” You were surprised when Randy dropped $700 on a wedding ring for her. “What are you gonna do?”_

_“I’ve gotta call him out.”_

“How did Randy take it?” Agent Morgan asks. “Did she call him out?”

“Oh, she did,” you nod, your eyes widening for dramatics. “She did.”

_It was ten at night when Este came flying through your front door._

_“I’m gonna kill him,” she seethed. “That motherfucker.”_

_You were still awake, sitting on the couch and reading a random book of poetry. You hadn’t been able to sleep knowing Este was going to talk to Randy tonight. You were waiting for her call._

_“What the hell did he do?”_

_“The fucker tried to hit me.”_

_“Hit you?” You stood from the couch abruptly. “Did he touch you?”_

_“No,” she shook her head. She was shaking head to toe with anger, but also with fear. “Then the asshole pointed his shotgun at me and told me to get the hell out.”_

_“Thank God you came here,” you exhaled, a painful ache in your chest at the thought of Randy actually shooting her, followed by a hot burst of anger. You wrap your arms around her tightly, squeezing her. “I’ll handle this.”_

_“How?” She asked. “I want to help.”_

_“Then...we need to call Danielle and Alana.”_

“Why wasn’t this reported to the police?” Agent Morgan asks, anger covering his features at your tale.

You snort a laugh. “You try reporting domestic abuse around here. They just laugh in your face and tell you to go back to the dishes. Este was traumatized enough.”

Morgan nods, not surprised by your answer, but also not pleased. “So Este stayed with you?”

_While Este slept in the following morning, you put on your clothes just before sunrise and went on a walk._

_Your first stop was at your grandmother’s house. Her husband wakes up at this hour and has every day since the end of the second world war. He’s got a boat, and you’ve got a boating license._

_Your next stop was Este’s house. Randy came to the door, angry and still drunk from the night before. He reeked of whiskey this time, not black cherry merlot. You noticed a bullet hole in the front window, and had to calm yourself down before you strangled him right then and there. Este didn’t tell you he actually fired a shot at her._

_“What do you want?” He spat. “Where’s my whore of a wife?”_

_“You’re dead, Randy,” you hissed. “As soon as I get my hands on you. You’re dead.”_

_He laughed, propping his body up against the doorway. “You’ve always talked a big game, but we both know you ain’t worth shit in a fight.”_

_“Wanna find out?”_

_“Sure thing,” he rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the doorway. His wedding ring is nowhere to be seen. “If you see my bastard wife, tell her I need’a talk to her.”_

_“Sure thing,” you mocked._

_“Go to hell, Y/N.”_

_“You first, asshole.”_

But of course, you don’t tell Agent Morgan _all_ this. “My grandpa was sweet enough to let me borrow the boat. Este, Alana, Danielle and I went out on the lake that afternoon and had a celebration.”

“A celebration?”

“Of Este’s freedom,” you grinned. “It was a long time comin’.”

_Este stayed with you for a week after the incident. She stayed out of the town and became invisible._

_The first stage of the plan had begun._

_You saw Randy out at the grocery store a few days later. He was buying too much food for someone who lived alone. The sight made your blood boil._

_The entire town knows how close you and the Haim sisters are. So what happened next wasn’t surprising, and many praised you._

_“How dare you,” you hissed as you approached him, right next to the bread aisle. “You cheat on your wife, deny it when she calls you out, then you threaten to shoot her, and now you’re buying groceries for two while she’s missing.”_

_“Please, she ain’t missin’.”_

_“Well if she ain’t with you, she’s missing. I ain’t see her in a week, you dumbass. What the hell did you do to her?”_

_“I didn’t do shit to her!”_

_“Liar!” You yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I’ll find you out, you son of a bitch. Just you wait.”_

You do tell this to Morgan because the entire town knows what went down that day. It spread like wildfire, and so did the accusation.

_**i think he did it, but i just can’t prove it** _

“So you yelled at him. In front of everyone.”

“I lost my temper,” you admit. “Este really was missing. She didn’t tell me where she was going, but it was just to her family’s cabin up north.” Which did actually happen. Este didn’t contact you or her sisters or anyone else _while_ she was there, but you knew that’s where she had gone. 

“Why didn’t she tell you?”

“She wanted some time alone, is all she said. I didn’t pry.” You pause. “I’ve never been cheated on and threatened like she was, but I imagine I’d want some time alone, too.” You shrug. “She came back a few days later, though. She was fine.” You meet Morgan’s eyes. “Then Randy turned up missing.”

Morgan shrugs. “Randy just _turned up_ missing, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “How else do people disappear?”

He shakes his head. “You tell me.”

“Listen, I know it makes me look suspicious, but forgive me for being elated that his ass is gone from Este’s life. She deserved better. Maybe now she’ll get it.”

“Where were you the night Randy disappeared?”

“What night was that again?”

“Last Wednesday. A week ago.”

“Right,” you nod, thinking it over. “I was with Danielle that night. She wanted to play Monopoly, and I’m the only one brave enough to take her on.”

“And if we ask her that, what will she say?”

You grin, “That she smoked my ass at Monopoly like always.”

+++

“Their stories are exactly the same. _Every_ detail,” Emily drops the notepad onto the table. 

Morgan sighs, rubbing his forehead. “What now?”

Hotch shakes his head slowly, still watching you through the small window to the interrogation room. “I know she had something to do with it,” he says lowly. “She’s spoken in past tense this entire time.”

“So did Este,” Emily says. “A grieving wife wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, but he nearly killed her,” JJ adds. “I’d speak in the past tense to cope.”

“Actually, it is a coping mechanism,” Spencer chimes. “Speaking in past tense about an abuser is common for a lot of survivors, even if the abuser is still present in their lives. It’s hard for many victims to do it right away, but it’s possible Este could be doing it more quickly because of the threat of being murdered and the other circumstances, like the cheating.”

“We have no proof,” Rossi says, though everyone knows it. “We can’t hold them.”

Hotch nods. He turns to one of the officers behind him and motions for them to let you and the Haim sisters go home. Against his better judgement. 

He knows you had something to do with this. Maybe all three of the Haim sisters as well. But there’s no proof. Not a single piece of evidence. 

The boat is clear. The house is clear. Even the lake is clear, and police have been patrolling it every day since Este presumably disappeared. The mistress swears you did it, but there’s zero proof to her accusations, so she only looks like a bitter girlfriend. 

_**she thinks i did it, but she just can't prove it** _

Hotch watches as the police officer dismisses you from the interrogation room. You meet up with the Haim sisters at the front desk to finish the correct paperwork, but your eyes are locked on the handsome agent. To be fair, he was the one who started staring first. 

The Haim sisters finish their paperwork before you, and you tell them you’ll meet them in the parking lot. Hotch is well aware that you’re stalling. He’s not a fool. 

But then again, neither are you.

While you’re alone at the counter, Hotch takes the opportunity to approach you. 

“I’ll catch you,” is all he says. 

You smirk. “Take me to dinner first.” You bite on the end of the pen you’re using, flashing a wink to the tall man. 

He doesn’t budge. His eyes only darken.

“Have a good day, Agent Hotchner,” you exhale, tapping the pen on your cheek. “Tell your wife I say hi.”

He looks ready to bend you over the counter, but doesn’t. 

There’s a lighter area of skin around his left-hand ring finger where his wedding ring obviously used to sit. 

You are no fool. 

Aaron watches as you walk away, purposefully shaking your hips, and the grin you shoot over your shoulder as you push open the precinct doors is devilish and addicting. 

That night, you and the Haim sisters shared a meal at Olive Garden and clinked your wine glasses together, whispering, “ _No body, no crime._ ”

_**no, no body, no crime, i wasn’t letting up until the day he died...** _


End file.
